


Bruises on your thighs like my fingerprints

by yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M, POV Patrick Brewer, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Thirsty Bottom Patrick Brewer, but there's enough detail in there that it got the rating, it's more remembering the sex than the actual sex lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27443089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau
Summary: He’s no stranger to waking up stiff and sore — after a baseball game, following a hard hike, if he doesn’t cool down properly after going to the gym. But it’s the middle of winter and he hasn’t done any of those things in weeks; no, he knows exactly why his hamstrings are screaming at him in protest, why his abductors are making their presence known this morning.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 30
Kudos: 257
Collections: Politics? What Politics?





	Bruises on your thighs like my fingerprints

**Author's Note:**

> Whoo boy, my American friends have had a week, haven't they? EggplantSalad had the fantastic idea to put together a little collection of filth to celebrate. Go check it out, read the rules, and add your own little slice of escapism!
> 
> I threw this together in the airport lounge (it's fine, I sat with my back to a wall). Set sometime in that time skip between 4.09 and 4.10. Title is from Fall Out Boy.

It takes a long moment, when Patrick wakes up, to remember why the muscles in his thighs ache.

He’s no stranger to waking up stiff and sore — after a baseball game, following a hard hike, if he doesn’t cool down properly after going to the gym. But it’s the middle of winter and he hasn’t done any of those things in weeks; no, he knows exactly why his hamstrings are screaming at him in protest, why his abductors are making their presence known this morning. Ray was away overnight thanks to the Greater Elms Regional Realtors’ Association and he and David had taken advantage of the rare boon of true privacy until well into the night.

Speaking of… 

Patrick reaches over, but to his surprise the other side of the bed — he already thinks of it as David’s side of the bed, even though their opportunities for actual sleepovers have so far been limited — is cold, the sheets rumpled. That makes him blink his eyes open in surprise, and he almost laughs out loud when instead of David’s head on the pillow he finds a sticky note carefully affixed there instead.

  


_I’ve opened the store. Figured you might need the rest.  
  
See you soon, if you can walk._

  


Even through the neat handwriting David’s smugness is evident, and it makes Patrick defiant for exactly as long as it takes for him to get out of bed before he has to acknowledge that the smugness is probably entirely deserved. He hobbles to the shower, turning on the spray as hot as he can stand it before stepping under the spray, the heat an immediate relief.

The first time he’d bottomed, a couple of months ago now, Patrick had been prepared for it to, if not hurt, at least cause some discomfort. He’d done plenty of research about what to expect, and went into the experience with eyes wide open. But David had been so careful, so gentle — damn near covering his hand in lube and opening him up unbearably slowly, until Patrick was writhing with his hands fisted in his sheets, his voice bouncing off the walls as he begged David to _just fuck him already._ Which meant that while yes, he’d certainly needed a second to adjust in the moment, the next day the only thing he’d felt was a sort of bone-deep satisfaction at just how much he’d loved having David inside him.

This is the first time sex — with David, with anyone — has left him _aching._

Last night, once they’d made their way up to the bedroom after dinner (and after trading languid kitchen blowjobs while cooking dinner) David had pulled a pair of leather handcuffs out of his overnight bag with a shy, hopeful smile. They’d stripped each other down before Patrick had tied David’s wrists to the headboard with shaking hands and then he’d sat astride David’s thighs, trying not to blush with David’s gaze hot and wanting on him as he’d worked himself steadily open in preparation. By the time he’d rolled a condom onto David’s cock they’d both been hard and leaking, and when Patrick had shuffled awkwardly up the bed before sinking down on him David had pulled at the restraints so hard Patrick had had a genuine moment of concern for the headboard. But then he’d found his rhythm, and David had started snapping his hips up to meet him, and every single thought except the delicious dragging of David’s dick along his prostate and the way David’s eyes rolled back in his head as he let Patrick take control had floated away. It was their first time in that position and Patrick couldn’t have imagined getting fucked by David could feel better than it had previously, but now he thinks he might ride David every day if he can. He’s never felt more full, and the way David’s eyelids had fluttered shut as Patrick came all over his chest just before his own orgasm overtook him was… well. Patrick will be thinking about that for a while, is all.

Of course, he’s going to have to let his muscles recover before they try it again.

It’s almost ten by the time he makes it to the store, his entire morning routine slowed down by the stiffness of his movements. (The stairs were a particular challenge, and when he realised only once he was in the kitchen that he’d left his phone upstairs he’d seriously considered going without it for the day.) David smiles at him from behind the counter, a role reversal from how their mornings usually go, but then his eyes zero in on Patrick’s thighs as he registers the way he’s moving and his grin turns positively feral.

“Good morning.” If Patrick had thought the note was smug, it’s nothing to how David sounds now. And honestly, Patrick’s going to let him have it. “How are you feeling?”

Patrick rolls his eyes at the faux-innocent solicitousness, but he can’t stop the smile stretching across his face as he finally gets close enough to David to pull him in for a kiss, rather more heated than he’d usually kiss him in the middle of the store. By the time he pulls away David’s breathing has quickened just a little, and Patrick gives his waist a slight squeeze before he lets go. 

“I’m sore, thanks for asking.” 

Something flickers in David’s eyes as he brings his hands to Patrick’s shoulders, stroking almost nervously. “Good sore, or…?”

“Definitely good sore, David.” 

David’s whole body relaxes. “Good.” After glancing quickly towards the door he drops to his knees and runs his hands down the front of Patrick’s thighs, his hands hidden from the street by the counter. He doesn’t go near Patrick’s dick but it’s somehow still wildly erotic, his fingers kneading gently into the muscles there before they trail around the back of his knees and work their way up the back. David looks up at him through his eyelashes and Patrick has to grab the counter, reminding herself sternly that they’re in their workplace and the front door is unlocked to stop himself reaching for his fly.

David smirks as he stands up. “Later.” That one, throaty word somehow manages to sound like a thousand promises wrapped up in one, and Patrick leans in to kiss him again.

“You know you’re going to have to be the one running around the store all day, right?” It’s not quite the words he wants to say, but he knows David isn’t quite ready to hear those yet.

David looks like the cat that got the canary, and not just because of the soft black fuzz of his sweater. “Worth it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Come and find me on [Tumblr](http://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com/).


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